Quarantine
by Courbeau
Summary: George picks up a virus and passes it on to someone. When him and that someone have to be quaratined, well...
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Not DH compliant in the fact that Fred is alive.

The sun peeked out from behind the half-drawn curtain and crept along the wood floors to the large bed in the centre of the turquoise wall. The only person in the room was laying prone, breathing deeply and slowly, wakefulness only just starting to seep into the edges of his dreams.

George Weasley sighed and rolled over, dragging his arm over his head and intending to bask in the wonderful sleepiness of Sunday mornings. Laziness and languid movements were halted abruptly, however, when he rolled into a patch of unexpected sunshine and blinded himself brutally. With a grunt, the sheets were pulled up over his half-naked form and he settled in for another snooze, gently ruffling the linen with his even breathing once more.

"Georgie-boy! Wake-y wake-y!" Fred exclaimed, starling his twin out of his mid-morning nap not five minutes after the sun had conspired against him.

"Mmnph."

Fred stood in the now open doorway and put his hands on his hips. "What sort of a tone is that to use with me, dear brother?"

"A fitting one. Go away. Sleeping." Fred rolled his eyes. "I don't think so. It's nine-forty-seven and I've been up since six getting ready for the new shipment." Fred crossed the room and drew the curtains open completely, flooding every corner of the room with summer sun.

"Not because you needed to be!" George threw back the sheets and squinted up at his brother grumpily.

"You're right; I'm just excited. And so are you, obviously. Get a move on."

George dropped his head back onto the pillow behind him dejectedly, not bothering to disguise his typical morning half-mast with a flush of the sheet.

He was never going to get back to sleep now.

* * *

Half an hour later, George was strutting out of his room in his favourite pair of jeans and pulling an old Quidditch jersey over his head. He ruffled his damp hair a bit before pouring himself some coffee and wandering over to the front window that overlooked Diagon Alley above the shop. Steam from his hot shower followed him around into the living room where he found the Daily Prophet, already riffled through, on the large brown couch. Sitting, George could hear Fred banging around downstairs, talking to himself and swearing occasionally.

The twins only opened the shop for a few hours on Sundays in the summer. For whatever reason, they didn't get much business at all. Of course, it wasn't just the obnoxiously purple building; it was all of Diagon Alley. Perhaps the magical world was not progressing quite as quickly into the realm of 24/7 availability, but the Weasley brothers had found that they much preferred having the day off anyhow. During the school year, however, they didn't open at all. Today they would probably be open from around one to almost five, but no later.

As usual, it was family dinner at the Burrow tonight. Now that Ginny had finally graduated and all the Weasley siblings were out in the real world and employed, it was always nice having a weekly get-together and catch up. They were quite the bunch, the lot of them.

"George!" Fred called from downstairs.

George sighed.

"Hold your horses!" he replied loudly. He stood and dropped the paper back in the couch to finish later on this afternoon. On his way down the hall to the stairs he dropped his mug into the sink and grabbed a muffin off the plate that Mrs. Weasley had sent home with them earlier in the week.

"GEORGE!" came a sharp snap. "Get your arse down here!"

The redhead growled and stuffed the entire delicious cake into his mouth thumped down the stairs quickly.

"I said I was coming, you berk. You didn't need to-" George stopped short as he rounded the corner and saw what Fred had been harping on about. "Woah."

The shipment he'd been talking about must have just gotten in. There was a massive stack of crates along the wall in the backroom and Fred had cracked one open to see what was inside. He had discarded the pry bar off to the side and was digging through the packing shred to pull out the multiple bags of the most peculiarly coloured seed pods.

They were sort of almond shaped, but about the size of a dinner plate. The rough fibres on the outside were a cross between striated bark and what one might consider mammoth wool; coarse and wiry. For magical items, they really were extraordinary because they didn't puff smoke or make noise or move and wiggle. However their colour was a dark redish-blueish-purple. Of a sort. It was too blue to be called magenta, too red to be called purple and too violet to be called indigo. And for fibrous hair on the outside, it was oddly metallic-looking.

George was immediately beside Fred, reaching for his own bag to examine up close. Fred was just sitting and staring at his bag cross legged on the concrete.

"What?" George asked him as he pulled the zip open of the plastic bag to get a whiff of the strange ingredient.

"I can't figure it," Fred stated. "How does it look like that?"

"Yeah it is a bit weird. But it doesn't smell bad," replied George, sticking his nose in the bag once more and drawing in a deeper breath.

"I'll take your word for it. I just want to look at it some more. I wonder what it does in sunlight?"

And Fred was gone, out into the shop and up at the front window, holding the bag of exotic merchandise out in the sun streaming through the display window.

George fished one of the seed pods out of the bag in his lap gingerly. It was rough on the outside, much more so than it appeared. It sort of grated like steel wool over the pads of his fingers, and so he placed it back in the bag gently.

"I'll send the ministry the confirmation of the delivery. Can't keep them waiting, can we?" George picked himself up and quickly dashed off a note to the Control of Dangerous and Restricted Goods office, a branch of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

"These puppies came a long way, didn't they?" Fred asked from the front room, turning his bag over in the sunlight.

"All the way from Tanzania." "What are they called again?" he pressed. "Kamadorea Pods," George answered, opening one of the windows for their business owl, Eve, so she could take the letter to the magical law-minders. She took off with a fierce squeeze and a slight pinch to his forearm and was soon far off in the distance over the magical community. "Now that they're here, I'm going to go back upstairs and finish the paper. Call if you need me." Fred dismissed him casually with a wave of the hand, mesmerized by the pods. He was now rolling them in their bag on the floor, crunching the tough outer shell on the floorboards.

George went about upstairs, picking up dishes and pushing papers into piles for the recycling. After he finished tidying, he lounged on the couch with a book. This would have been weird in school, seeing a Weasley twin making the effort to learn anything assigned, but being out of school for three years now, George liked to learn about whatever he was interested in. Of course, it usually had to do with something for the shop or an experiment or one of their crazy ideas.

All in all, the day was good. Fred stayed downstairs and then left to go see someone who George presumed was a girl. A warm breeze passed through the empty store just as George was contemplating leaving for the Burrow. The windows were all propped open, with sunlight filtering through here and there between the buildings around WWW.

One kid had ambled in all afternoon, and was called promptly back outside by his mother who looked like she had left her mind at home. Bags of groceries and potion ingredients were hanging off her loaded arms and three young kids were screeching and running and hiding and she was a mess. The oldest of the four hopped out of the store quickly so as to not be scolded.

Snagging his wand from the counter beside him, George magically closed up shop as soon as the front door jingled closed behind the boy. The windows clicked shut, the door locked and the blinds all rolled down smoothly. As the dust settled, the twin bounded back up the stairs, excited for a little mayhem after a slow and boring day. The relaxation was good, as long as Fred wasn't around.

Time for chaos to ensue.

* * *

Hermione had dashed about all day getting her errands and her shopping done in Diagon Alley and the muggle supermarket by her flat. She ran through her end-of-week routine; making sure all the files she had done over the weekend were ready for Monday morning, complete with notes, she made sure she had the majority of the groceries for the week, she flirted with the boy at the library, and she did laundry.

She wiped up after herself in her little kitchen and trotted down the hall to her bedroom to find some clean clothes to wear to dinner at the Weasley's, which she was due to leave for in fifteen minutes.

Peeling her sweaty tank top over her head and leaving it in a pile with her capris on the tile floor of the bathroom, she had a quick shower to wash away the grime of the day. Her hands spread a light moisturizer over her skin quickly before she pulled on some cargo shorts and a lightweight French blue top. Slipping her feet into some sandals, Hermione pocketed her wand and tied her hair up into a ponytail and Disapparated on the spot.

Something just short of pandemonium greeted her when she appeared on the lawn of the Burrow about twenty paces from the front door. Hermione could hear Mrs. Weasley shouting inside the house, and she managed to show up just in time to see both Fred and George streak out the front door, cackling madly and taking off into the field opposite her. More shouting and Ginny walked out clutching her stomach as the porch screen swung shut behind her with a clatter.

As Hermione approached cautiously, Ginny slumped against the outside of the house and slid down to sit. She was red in the face and she was shaking with mirth with tears in her eyes.

"Ginny?"

"Oh, Hermione-" Ginny gasped, "you scared me." The girl giggled a bit more and then quieted down. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine. How are you?" Hermione went up to Ginny and sat on the step at her feet.

"Just perfect. Enjoying summer now that I'm home. I think I just got a job at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes." The redhead smiled brightly, still pink in the cheeks.

"Oh, no. What did you do?" Hermione chuckled, waiting for the story.

"Just had a bit of fun at mum's expense. She's mad now, but she'll have a laugh later. I think dinner's almost ready; let's brave the house, shall we?" Ginny pulled herself up and offered a hand to Hermione, who was pulled to her feet after she took it.

"Hey, Hermione."

The twins had reappeared, strolling through the knee-high grass and into the garden at the corner of the house. Fred and George were both dressed quite similar, both sporting jeans.

George was wearing a quidditch jersey while Fred had a plain shirt and an open green button-up rolled up to his elbows.

"Hello, boys. I hear you've been up to no good."

"As usual, wouldn't you say?" Fred winked before hopping up the steps and disappearing again through the door.

"Would you really expect anything other than mischief? I'm hurt at the mere thought." George followed his brother through the door with a cheeky smile.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Since neither of them have any chivalry, I'll get the door. After you," Ginny said, pushing Hermione through the doorway ungracefully. She stumbled right into George who clearly hadn't moved more than two steps after he came into the house.

"Oh, sorry-"

"No, it was Gin-"

"Budge up, why are we all still in the doorway? George, move!" Ginny snapped before happily pulling Hermione out into unoccupied space.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed getting to his feet. "Feels like we haven't seen you in ages." The startlingly tall black-haired man allowed her to wrap her arms about his middle and gave her a squeeze around the shoulders for good measure.

"It's been a week, Harry. Not a month." Hermione rolled her eyes skyward.

"All the same."

Harry moved off and Mrs. Weasley was right behind him.

"Hermione, dear! It's good to see you. You're looking a little-"

"Mum, she's fine. Let her breathe," Ginny interjected.

"Well not to worry, dinner will be ready in a jiffy. Why don't you go let the others know, and by then I'll have everything on the table. Hmm?"

The Burrow was an amazing demonstration of magic; it would take nothing less to keep the building standing, for sure. Made of brick and mortar and wood, with repairs and extensions and fixes with whatever suited the job, the home had ended up a little lopsided and a lot eclectic. Nothing matched in this house at all, as a rule. Everything was worn from use. The large scrubbed table and chairs were the symbol she most related to family and friends, thanks to the Weasley's.

Also, the house was never quiet. There was always people coming and going. Between Arthur and Molly, seven kids kept them quite busy when they were younger, and it hadn't changed much now. Someone was always over for dinner or helping Molly with the garden or keeping her distracted so that Arthur could tinker with some new muggle contraption he had recently acquired. Ginny still lived here, as well as Ron. Harry had moved into

Grimmauld Place, but he spent most of his time here anyhow when he wasn't at work. Fred and George had their flat and their store, Percy lived with Penelope, his girlfriend from Hogwarts, and Bill lived with Fleur in a beautiful cottage by the ocean somewhere. Charlie, of course, was still in Romania with his dragons, and Hermione suspected that that wouldn't change anytime soon.

Everyone was here, though, no matter where or with whom they lived. Charlie was having an animated discussion with Ron and George, sporting a new half-healed burn on his arm. Bill was talking quietly with Mr. Weasley on the couch while Fleur trailed around after Molly making a nuisance of herself. Percy was sipping a drink and reading a book in the corner while Fred and Ginny were whispering about something secretively by the window, both grinning like maniacs.

A chorus of greetings were thrown out at the sight of Hermione, with a few waves here and there.

"Dinner's ready!"

* * *

George was happily chewing away at his roast potato and watching the family around him chatter contentedly. He was having a fascinating conversation with Hermione about the chemical makeup of one of the products him and Fred were working on presently. She could be a real help sometimes.

He stared as she explained something to him in depth, completely in her element. She was cutting up some roast beef and flashed him an amazing smile as she asked his opinion on something.

"Uhm... Well," he stuttered. "You weren't paying attention, were you? I should have known better. You've got food in front of you," she joked.

"Sorry. What were you saying?"

She carried on and George made sure not to slip up again, even though the particular colour of blue she was wearing was definitely her colour, and those shorts were meant to kill him. It was in moments like these that she did not know how attractive she was.

The group finished dinner and Hermione left to clear up with Mrs. Weasley. Everyone was in the middle of clearing the table on the way back to the living room when George stopped dead in his tracks, hands raised, face scrunched up hilariously.

Every body in the room took two steps back.

"What are you all-"

"AH-CHOO!"

For a moment, there was not one movement. And then Fred started laughing uncontrollably.

Hermione stood stock still with her arms akimbo and her eyes closed, frozen in a state of flinching. George, however, looked appalled with himself.

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry. Hermione I'm so-"

"Ew."

Laughing, everyone was dispersing into the rest of the house, having had a good chuckle at the unfortunate timing of Hermione Granger.

"I'm really-" "Sorry, I know. Don't worry, George. I'll sort myself out."

Hermione turned on her heel and made her way to the bathroom on the first landing of the staircase.

"Don't worry, George. Ron's sneezed all over her more than once, and she was plenty more mad at him than you," Ginny paused, "I've even sneezed on her."

George laughed and they shoved each other a few times before joining the racket in the other room. Hermione joined them a minute later with a freshly scrubbed face and her smooth curls tumbling down around her shoulders. She grinned at George before sitting down with Mrs. Weasley and jumping straight into conversation.

When the night wound down, people started leaving for home, thanking Molly and Arthur as they left, promising to see them next Sunday at the same time.

"Alright mum, I'm off. Lots to do tomorrow, and I need my beauty sleep," Fred commented. "I don't know if any amount of sleep could help you." Hermione grinned as she passed between Fred and Molly to slip her sandals on again. "Thanks Molly. Dinner was lovely. See you soon?"

Mrs. Weasley enveloped Hermione in a hug.

"Of course, dear. Don't work too hard."

Hermione smiled and waved at the boys, disappearing into the darkness outside. Everyone waited for the telltale crack of her apparating away, closely followed by Harry, Charlie, Bill and Fleur, and lastly Fred and George.

"Bye mum. See you soon."

"Bye dears," she smiled, wiping her hands on her apron and turning back into the house.

The twins turned on the spot and suddenly they were back in their own flat.

"Want to come down to the pub with me?" Fred asked pouring himself a cup of water.

"No, thanks, I think I'll go to bed early. We do have a lot of work tomorrow. We have to get started on those pods." George scuffed down the hall pulling his shirt over his back and balling it up.

"I suppose you're right. Another night then, for manly bonding and alcohol consumption," Fred grinned and passed him on his way to the bathroom, clapping him on the back. "That was beautiful timing on your part this evening, Gred. You got Hermione square in the face. It was amazing." He carried on chuckling.

George grinned.

"It was, wasn't it?"


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione Granger had already been in her office for over an hour by the time a consistent amount of to-do could be heard from the floor around her. The fifth floor of the ministry was always busy, as it housed the Departments of International Magical Trading Standards Body, International Magical Office of Law and the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats. All of that was besides Hermione's Control of Dangerous and Restricted Goods Office, all four of which were sub-departments under the International Magical Cooperation Department.

Her mug of tea had gone cold and was sitting stagnant on the desk in the corner. An owl swooped in and dropped a bundle of letters in her In Box before fluttering out again. After a few moments, the witch stopped her editing and paused to stretch a kink from her back and reach for the new stack of reading.

Four Inter-Departmental Memos.

Seven Civilian Trading Requests.

Three Confirmations of Arrival.

And one letter from Ginny.

Sunlight filtered through the magical window beside her desk and Hermione decided to make herself a new cup of tea and grab a snack from the staff room. All of this could wait until after she had stretched her legs.

QQQ

By the time George woke up on Monday morning, it was gone eight. He grudgingly rolled out of bed and stepped into the shower like a zombie, standing in the hot spray for well over half an hour. The heat did nothing to wake him up, and he dressed slowly.

"George?" Fred could be heard thumping down the hall towards George's room.

"Yeah?"

The door was nudged open carefully and Fred slipped into the room.

"You alright? You look hot. Took you awhile to get up this morning."

George flumped back onto his mattress ruffling his bedclothes.

"I'm fine. Just really tired."

"Can't see why. Went to bed at ol' fogie o'clock last night, the pair of us," Fred snorted. "C'mon. Let's get going now so we can go for a drink tonight. There's that pretty barmaid working; I asked because I know you like her." The twin left the room with a smirk and George sighed. Fred was right; they needed to get started on their next experiment.

The air in the apartment was getting hotter by the second and George could feel sweat forming on his brow quickly. Reaching to wipe it away with the back of his arm, he froze.

"Fred, did you slip me some colour change capsules?"

"No, why?" Fred called back through the open door, poking his head back into George's room. His eyebrows rose into his floppy hair as he surveyed his brother confusedly. "What did you do to yourself?"

"Nothing, that's the point." George was overheating and puffing air out of his lungs in panic.

"Then why are you purple?"

QQQ

Hermione's stack of mail had shrunk considerably, most of it having been addressed by the time lunch rolled in. Rigby had been by to inform her that the meeting between the trading regulations and the foreign tariffs board had been rescheduled for tomorrow afternoon, so she had been freed up to get through more cases and applications for trade.

Exciting work abound, the witch mulled over the last few things to open before lunch. The letter from Ginny had remained untouched so far, and Hermione broke the magical seal on it after a lethargic sigh.

_Hermione,_

_I know it's Monday, and Monday's are crucial and imperative to a productive work week. However I have the day off and wanted to know if you were free for lunch this afternoon. Floo me before 12-ish and I'll meet you wherever._

_Hungrily and impatiently yours,_

_Ginny_

Hermione grinned and stood, stretching her back and feeling it crack gloriously. A pinch of floo powder and she had her head in Ginny's grate.

"Ginny? Ginny!"

A thump sounded from somewhere to the right and Ginny's head poked around the corner of her hall. The rest of her small frame followed quickly.

"Hermione! I thought I'd never hear from you."

"Busy morning, sorry."

"Ah, paperwork," sighed the redhead sarcastically.

"Oh, hush. About lunch-"

"Don't tell me, you absolutely can't. You're completely bogged down. Requests and applications left, right, and bloody centre. You couldn't possibly pull yourself away for a shot of firewhisky, let alone a whole forty minutes for food and chat with horrible, old me."

Ginny's dramatics were halted suddenly as she stopped expectantly for an answer from the brunette, hand on her hip.

"Yes, you're right. I simply can't make it, but thank you for the offer. I'm needed urgently on a matter of great import."

"So I'll see you in the Alley at one?" Ginny grinned.

"Soup Cauldron?"

"Be gone, witch. Out with you!"

Hermione squeaked and turned back to her office as Ginny feigned a swipe at her head with a broomstick. The sound of her friend's laughter faded as the fire returned to normal a few moments later. A small sneeze erupted unexpectedly from Hermione and she shocked herself into action.

With renewed motivation, Hermione set out to open and file the last letter she had. A Confirmation of Arrival was simple. Record the confirmation and have it filed in its proper place by company name and name of requester.

_To Whom it May Concern,_

_This letter is filed in accordance with trade laws pertaining to the request of a monitored substance, section F, paragraph 13 of the Wizarding Trading Laws and Conditions._

_I,__ George Weasley __ , acknowledge that I have received my shipment of __ Kamadorea Pods __ from __ Tanzania __on this date of __ August 16__th__, 2000 __. I am aware of the implications and inherent dangers of this restricted good(s) and have taken appropriate measures to ensure no harm may come of having this product imported for the purpose of __ joke shop experimentation __at the premises of __ 96 Diagon Alley, Weasley's Wizarding Weezes. _

_Request number: __638-712B_

_File number: __3328619_

_Warmest Regards,_

_(sign here)_

_George Weasley_

The form was filled accurately and Hermione smiled. It had taken the Weasley twins long enough to get the governmental aspect of their business trading straight, but they were as good as gold to deal with now that she had informed them that they would be arrested and detained for questioning if they didn't stop filling out their official forms with terms such as 'large squelchy thing', 'sometime in January', and 'animal experimentation of the illegal sort', purely because they knew she would be the one opening the mail.

Filing it quickly, she stacked her papers and sorted the mail to go out, dropping it on an intern's desk on her way down to the Atrium with express instructions to mail the letters immediately. With a swish of her skirt, she was gone.

QQQ

"I've already ordered tea."

Ginny had been waiting patiently for Hermione to slip in the door of the restaurant for ten minutes when her friend had shown up, windblown hair about her shoulders.

"Fantastic,' the brown-haired witch replied, sliding into the booth across from Ginny with a sigh. "I'm starving."

Both women immediately scanned the menu, quickly deciding and ordering lest one of them change their minds.

"So, how's this fine Monday going?" Ginny stirred sugar into her mug of tea and blew lightly on the steam swirling around the surface, looking over the rim of her cup carefully.

"The usual. Papers and files and oh! A cancelled meeting. Not much to speak of, I'm afraid. And you, with the day off?"

Ginny sighed.

"Mmm, I actually slept in this morning if you can believe it. Harry's been having trouble sleeping the last few nights so after he left for work this morning I had the whole quiet bed to myself and it was _glorious_."

"Harry and bad dreams. Like tea and sugar. You can't have one without the other, I suppose, no matter how many years it's been since Voldemort," Hermione nodded.

"Nothing serious though," Ginny blinked. "Just your run-of-the-mill falling-off-a-broom nightmare. Don't know why. Just one of those things, I suppose."

Hermione laughed.

"The man is like a monkey. I doubt he'd ever fall off his broom."

"Unless there's a grim in the clouds," Ginny smiled. "Anyways, I was just dragging myself around to do the laundry when you called. Fantastic excuse to postpone it another few hours, I say."

"You know, it takes a lot longer for muggles to do their dirty laundry, even with a machine and no magic. I'll never understand why you hate it so much when it's just a simple flick."

"Yes, yes, I know. I just hate it."

A pause for tea.

"Your brothers just got a shipment in. I imagine we'll be lab rats again soon enough."

"Thanks for the heads up," Ginny laughed. "Last time Fred got Harry with that, what was that thing? I can't even remember. But Harry had this rash for the longest time after..."

Soon their lunch arrived and the girls chatted amiably for another half hour before Hermione had to leave for work again.

"I'll floo you later this week. Maybe we can do a muggle movie or something," Ginny suggested as Hermione slid her bag over her shoulder.

"That sounds good. Talk to you soon, Ginny."

"Bye!"

QQQ

"How you doin' George?"

Fred was standing over his twin who was still in bed, but now had every blanket in the house on his shivering form. The violet in his pale clammy skin clashed horribly with the red tint of his hair and eyebrows. Even his freckles seemed perturbed by the hue.

"F-f-f-fine. Just co-cold."

Fred paused uncertainly.

"Maybe I should owl mum."

"No! No."

George shifted under his blankets and looked up at his brother.

"But, George, I don't know what this is! Mum will know. I have no clue what's wrong with you."

"Just w-wait. Until tomor-row. See if it g-gets better."

Fred's face was a mask of distaste.

"I dunno-"

"Just until tomorrow morning. I promise."

QQQ

By the time Hermione arrived home to her dimly lit flat, her body ached in all sorts of places she didn't really think should be aching. It wasn't like she had run the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts or hiked up a particularly large mountain. But that's what she felt like she had done. Her body was tired and sore all over, like she had taxed herself all day, when in reality she had only sat at her desk for a few more hours after she had arrived back at work for the afternoon. The most movement she had done was dash down to the next level to get a signature from a department head who never read memos; it was quicker to take the stairs.

Upon crossing her threshold, Hermione immediately dropped her bag and kicked her shoes off. As she shuffled towards the bathroom, she stripped and dropped clothing to the floor. The only thing she wanted right now was a hot shower and bed. Maybe she could just sleep this off.

With the hot water running, Hermione's brain turned off blissfully. The water thrummed into her back and shoulders and ran down her skin to the drain at her feet. Focusing on that, the witch washed and lathered on autopilot, wishing desperately for bed. After a few long minutes she was done, realizing that she was going to overheat if she stayed in any longer. Steam fogged the bathroom thickly as she towelled off and pulled an old shirt over her head and a pair of thin shorts up over her hips before sliding between the sheets into bed and closing her eyes.

Sleep came quickly and dreamlessly.

QQQ

The morning rolled around quickly and George pried his eyes open. Sleep grundlies covered his eyes and he rubbed them away sleepily.

Sun was once again shinning through his bedroom window and his bedside clock blinked 10:43 at him. Fred must have let him sleep, hoping whatever it was that had turned him purple yesterday would be working out of his system by now.

Speaking of being purple.

George lifted an arm up to check his skin. There was still a certain blue-y tinge to his skin, but it seemed to have faded slightly overnight. He remembered being very hot, and then very cold and clammy during the night but his body temperature had returned to normal for now.

He extracted himself out from under his covers and stepped stiffly over the other blankets and throws that had been piled on him for most of yesterday. Despite having slept for most of the last 24 hours, George didn't feel all that rested. Tiredness was still stagnant in his muscles, slowing him down and pulling at him like it was causing unbearable friction in his very joints, making it extremely difficult to move. He hobbled down the hall and quickly turned the shower on before he got so cold again that his teeth clenched and he couldn't talk.

Quickly scrubbing the sweat from his skin, George sighed and rinsed thoroughly. The water was pleasant on his skin but the heat was too much. He quickly realized as he turned it down that there was no happy medium. Either the water was too hot or too cold. Instead of getting frustrated he just got out and dried off, pulling on some clean sweats and another old jersey.

Now what to do?

QQQ

When Hermione awoke on Tuesday morning, she was abnormally tired. She was a cautious witch, always brushing her teeth and eating well and getting a full night's sleep, so rare was the case when she rose with her alarm clock feeling like she had been hit by a car in the night and placed quietly in bed, only to wake up feeling half dead to the world.

Her muggle alarm clock read the typical 6:30, but Hermione had trouble believing it was that late in the morning.

Her eyes closed back of their own accord and her toes wiggled farther down into her covers and curled.

Dragging her sorry carcass from bed with a long groggy groan, the witch set about searching for her slippers with her toes.

Her...

_Purple..._

Toes?

Hermione stared silently at her feet and shins in confused horror. Her muddled brain could think of nothing but that fact that she seemed to have turned a violent shade of purple overnight, as if by magic.

She scoffed and scooted off to the bathroom around the corner.

It wasn't just her feet. It was her everything. Shins, thighs, tummy, back and shoulders, arms, right down to the tips of her fingers. Her brown hair hadn't changed, and neither had her eyebrows.

But how?

Scuffing out to her bookcase, she pulled out a few books that might be of some help.

QQQ

"Fred Weasley! Why didn't you floo me sooner?"

Mrs. Weasley had come in and taken one look at George, curled back up in bed, still somewhat violet and rounded on his cringing twin.

"He didn't want m-"

"He's blue! I think that warrants a owl whether or not he wants it."

George had his eyes closed, trying to block out his mother's rants and raves, but he distinctly heard her feet coming his way.

"George, dear, you have to get up. I'm taking you to St. Mungo's. I don't know what's wrong with you, but something clearly is."

"Oh, thanks mum," he grumbled lowly.

"Don't get dramatic; you know what I mean. Fred, pack him a bag. And don't forget his toothbrush." Molly set about getting George up, which he was mostly capable of doing himself, but it gave her an excuse to question him.

"George dear, when did you start turning funny colours?"

George laughed.

"Just the one colour mum. Yesterday morning."

"Alright dear, put these socks on. And it's just fading now or...?"

George pushed his feet into the bundle of socks his mother had handed him and nodded silently.

"And what other sort of symptoms have you had since yesterday morning?"

"Uh, well. I was really tired. And then I got really hot. That's when I turned into a blueberry. And I stayed in bed yesterday because I was so tired. Also, purple."

"And he whined all day about being too hot, and then too cold." Fred was back in the room with an empty rucksack. Rummaging through George's closet, he pulled out a few t-shirts and a clean pair of jeans, adding some socks and boxers on top. George's toothbrush came zooming out of the washroom and around the corner at Fred's Summoning Charm.

"It was uncomfortable!"

"Yes, yes," Mrs. Weasley interjected before the twins could start bickering over just how much George had whined and whinged the day before. "Let's get your shoes and we'll floo there."

George landed in the floo corridor of St. Mungo's a few minutes later and Fred steadied him as he climbed out of the grate to make way for Molly, who swirled in moments after him. Dusting soot from her shoulders, she instructed Fred to bring George up to the waiting room while she got a nurse.

As Fred offered his arm to his brother with a smirk, George made to kick him and he skittered sideways.

"I've got it, thanks, you twat."

"I was just helping." That insufferable quirk to his twin's lips was aggravating, and George scowled and made his own way behind his mother.

As he arrived in the waiting room, he glanced around and wasn't at all surprised to see that his skin deformity was not the most outrageous thing the healers would have seen today. There was a man waiting patiently in a chair reading an outdated magazine with gently flapping bat's ears protruding from his temples. A woman was sitting a few chairs down, completely still, until someone knocked into her by mistake and from her erupted the greatest racket; it sounded like a crashing of giant symbols coming from her stomach.

George took a seat beside another man who had bandages wrapped around one hand and the pungent smell of ointment about him.

"That's a lovely shade of violet," he laughed.

"I agree. I was going for more of a magenta, but what do you do?" remarked George happily.

"Hey George!" Fred waved him over from the counter where his mother was speaking with a healer. George stood again and made his way through the crowd. "They've already had someone like you come in today. I think they're going to put you together until they figure out what's wrong with you. I told them I've been trying for years with no luck, but they didn't seem to listen. Here's to hoping it's a pretty witch they've got you with and not some doddering old fart..."

The Healer made him sit in a wheelchair and his mother and twin followed them as they made their way up to Level. The ward was quiet and they rounded a doorframe into a sunny four-bed room. Two of the beds were empty and made up neatly. The one by the window was taken by a head of familiar brown hair amongst a massive pile of blankets.

Sleeping fitfully on her back, munched between covers and shivering, was Hermione Granger.


End file.
